


A Temporary Surrender: Breaking Point

by Minxie



Series: A Temporary Surrender [3]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: KINKS: D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-28
Updated: 2011-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I'm the one you hit your knees for. I'm the one you beg for and the one you cry for. I'm the one you trust with those things, with the side of you no one else even believes exists."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Temporary Surrender: Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** D/s, Adam/OMC  
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction using names and faces associated with actual trufax people. I do not know these people in any way, shape, or form outside of what they show the public. Which, IMO, is a very sucky thing. Just sayin'.  
>  **AN:** Written in response to [this](http://community.livejournal.com/glam_kink/1444.html?thread=1238948#t1238948) glam_kink prompt. And, yes, I took the prompt and put my spin on it. *facepalm* So, yeah, hope it's what the OP was looking for. Huge hugs and kisses to Red for the beta.

Adam sees the cuffs as soon as he comes out of the bathroom. Thick and black and standing out in stark relief against the sage green comforter. The sight of them doesn't surprise him. He'd known they were coming. But they still make him stop short.

Because it's real now. His submission, surrendering everything to Damien for the duration has become undeniably real. Bondage of any form makes it real.

"Pick them up, boy, and bring them to me." Damien's voice sounds from the doorway.

Without looking over his shoulder, Adam takes the final three steps to the bed. Back straight, a finger looped through one of the d-rings, the cuffs dangling from his hand, Adam turns and, quickly, before he can stop and really think about it, moves to Damien's side.

He swallows, once and then twice; then, offering the cuffs to Damien, Adam sinks to his knees.

"Pretty presentation, boy." Damien drags a finger over Adam's jaw. "Look at me."

Adam tilts his head back until his eyes meet and lock with the deep green of Damien's. He fights to hide his worry, the concern that this will be the time he blows this completely. He's never been this high-strung, never has come to Damien this tired and trapped so deep in his personal headspace.

"Let me in, Adam," Damien murmurs.

They stare at each other, Adam fighting himself while Damien watches and waits silently.

"I'm tired." Adam's voice is almost unrecognizable to his own ears.

"I know."

"I want this."

Damien shakes his head. "Not as much as you _need_ it."

"Why am I fighting..." Adam stops and sighs.

"Because you are you." Damien threads his fingers through Adam's hair and tugs, tips Adam's head further back, holding him at an awkward angle with just enough pressure to for Adam to really feel it. "And I wouldn't want you any other way. But now it's time for you to rest."

Damien's grip is unrelenting. Holding him, promising to be there, to catch him if – _when_ – he falls.

Eyes falling shut, Adam whispers, "Yes," and holds up his wrists, asking for – wanting, needing – the weight of the cuffs to remind him that he isn't in this alone.

His heartbeat speeds up as Damien locks first one and then the other cuff into place. "Mine."

Leaning in, pressing his forehead against Damien's thigh, Adam returns, "Yours."

* * *

Words are always hard for Adam. Because once he says them, he follows through. He's not fast to say, "I love you," and he's never said, "I hate you," and the only person he's let lay claim to him, the only one whose possession he's acknowledged and accepted is Damien's.

And still, the second after he utters 'yours' Adam dances along the edge of _run_ and _retreat_ and _what the actual fuck were you thinking, Lambert?_

With a hand on each wrist, Damien pulls Adam to his feet. "Come on, boy, to the bed."

Damien tucks Adam against his side, Adam's head resting just over his heart, and, with his arms holding Adam tightly, asks, "Okay, now?"

Adam shakes his head. He is nowhere near okay yet.

"Breathe with me until you are."

Minutes tick off – one, two, five, ten, almost twenty – and then, taking a deep breath, Adam says, "I'm good."

With a poke to the ribs, Damien chuckles. "Most of the time, yes, you are."

Adam's lips twitch with amusement.

"You do realize that these," and Damien draws a finger around one of the cuffs, "are nothing more than a symbol, yes? That you were mine the minute you came through that door."

"Yes, but..."

Damien stays quiet. He doesn't prod Adam into saying more. Doesn't give him the answers.

With a sigh, Adam pushes closer. Needy and raw and so open it hurts. "I'm not good at this, you know? I want it. I know that when I leave I'll be in a better place mentally. I'll be rested and ready to go again. And I want _that_. But it isn't easy."

"It may not be easy, but," and, pushing Adam's arms high above his head, Damien rolls over, covers Adam's body with his, weighs him down until Adam relaxes back into the mattress, "but, you've never been less than your best before. I doubt you're going to start now."

Then Damien kisses Adam. A hard, unyielding demand of lips and teeth and tongue that doesn't relent, doesn't slow down until Adam concedes, just gives to the invasion.

Behind the white noise buzzing the edges of his brain, Adam hears the rattle of chains, hears the click of locks and feels the pulls of the bondage against his wrists. Twisting, trying to see the cuffs and the lock and the lengths of chains, he tugs, gently at first and then harder. Testing the strength of the bonds the same as he's tested, will test again, the strength of Damien's dominance.

They're equally merciless. Adam knows it. And yet, he jerks his arms, pulls against the cuffs again.

Damien, lips pressed against Adam's ear, growls, "Stop fighting. You're not going anywhere."

Adam squeezes his eyes shut.

"This is it. Right here is where we've been heading since you showed up." Damien leans and bites – _marks_ – Adam's neck. "You know it as well as I do. It's time for you to let go, let me carry you."

"Damien." It's a whine. Can't be called anything but a whine. Adam doesn't care. He's too close to losing it completely, to simply shattering in Damien's hands to even register the tone of his voice or the way that he's shaking or the tears leaking in a steady stream from his eyes.

He's too far gone to realize that, really, he's already lost to it. That his body is leaps ahead of his mind and wallowing in the attention of Damien's hands and mouth, that he's wanton in his display, with his legs spread and his back arching, seeking out more of the stinging bites and the scratch of blunt nails.

It'll be hours – time spent beneath Damien being marked and used and _loved_ – before Adam acknowledges that right now, in this fucking moment he surrendered in word and deed.

* * *

The cuffs are still in place, heavy and tight around Adam's wrists, when he wakes up to the smell of Damien's home cooking. His body aches in way that screams well-fucked and his mind is, for the first time in months, blessedly quiet. Rolling to a stand, he grabs the blanket and pads, loose-limbed and naked, into the kitchen.

From the door, he watches Damien work at the stove, bare-chested and sweats hanging low on his hips. Adam is there only seconds before Damien, without even looking towards the door, snaps his fingers and points to the kneeling pillow by the table. "Hit your knees, pretty boy. Supper will be done in five."

Adam settles on the pillow, perfectly angled to both the table and to watching Damien move around the kitchen, plating pasta and garlic bread and salad.

Damien comes to the table with one overfull plate and two bottles of water. After settling into his chair, he leans in and busses his lips over Adam's forehead. "Nice nap, sleeping beauty?"

Blushing, Adam nods. He's not ready to talk yet. Just wants to keep floating in this place that Damien created.

"Good." Then, without another word, he picks up the fork and, starting with Adam, one bite at a time, clears the plate.

With the food gone, Adam drops his head to Damien's thigh, enjoying the silence and the full belly and the tight feel of Damien's marks, the raised pinks and reds from Damien's nails, pulling at his skin.

"You're sleeping chained to the bed tonight."

It's not a question. Adam hones in on that right away. Just like he clues in on Damien's tone of voice. He's in the mood to play, to take Adam right to the rim and then, just like earlier, when he first cuffed Adam to the bed, he wants to take Adam further, push him off the edge and into a sea of sensation overload, until Adam is moving solely on instinct, letting his body react to Damien without thinking, without weighing every word and action.

Adam's dick hardens, a Pavlovian response to the promise in the cadence of Damien's voice. He's gone, his only thoughts on Damien and their bed and the night to come.

"Chained and plugged," Damien continues, one hand dragging through Adam's hair, working through the strands that have tangled together while Adam slept. "After our shower, I'm going to chain you face down and have my dessert, eat your ass out until you’re begging for my fingers or my cock, anything that can go deep enough to make you come."

The groan works its way out, a long, drawn noise of arousal and anticipation and, in a small corner of his mind, worry.

"And then, when you're slick and open and humping back onto my tongue, dragging that pretty cock of yours over the sheets, I'm going to fill you. Slide that black plug into your ass. And maybe, after I watch you take it, watch you shake apart while I grind it into you, maybe, if you're a pretty enough picture, I'll let you suck my cock."

Moisture explodes in Adam's mouth. Another ingrained response, this one tied to the taste, the weight of Damien's cock on his tongue.

Damien tightens his fingers in Adam's hair, twists around the strands until Adam's scalp tingles, then he pulls back, forcing Adam's head off his thigh. He keeps pulling until Adam's head is tilted back, until Adam's eyes, hazy with need, focus on Damien's face. "And then again, pretty, I may just jerk off while you, wet and shameless in your need, watch."

"Please."

Damien's lips curl, a satisfied smirk emerging. "Shower, boy. Make it nice and hot."

Adam doesn't even flinch when Damien snatches the blanket away and he has to walk through the house naked, save for the cuffs at his wrists.

* * *


End file.
